Review In City Express, TVPM edition dt 29-12-2014

Glad to see a snippet in City Express of 29/12/2014. Reviewed by Aswathy Karnaver..

Only The Pure Holds Light In The Midst Of Darkness

Title courtesy : Vinod Laxman

SS: 1/1250, f/6.3, ISO : 160, FL : 105, NIKOR 18-105 MM.

Diary Of A Dervish

Dairy Of A Dervish

15-12-2014

Dear Diary,
It was fun the whole evening
Though towards the end, I puked
As my head was reeling bad.
So much I swirled to get that twirl right
The way it was shown at school today.
Nana said, I look funny in Tennure,*
Ammi cut and sewn out of Abba's white tunic.
But Abba told, I look fine when he 
Made his cap, to a Sikke** and gave.

16-12-2014

Dear Diary,
Aman was giggling when he saw my sikke, for
His uncle had given him one in Camel's hair
He brought from Lebanon.
Shaheedji, our master told us of 
Darwish Mahmoud*** and it was one of his best
That master had picked to set it to a chant
It was pristine and made us a bit sad too
But once we started, we were lost in it.
Remember seeing Shaheedji smiling and 
Aman's face had an ethereal glow.
Guess, he had tears in his eyes.
"Oh Father, my brother neither love nor
Want me in their midst" and I saw
Aman falling, swirling round and
Round and round, squirting
Bobs of reds all across..
Others too, Sama, Khalid, Masterji, Ruhan, Ishmeil.
My knees, suddenly gave away and 
I too fell, like a Tennure falling in heaps.
I couldnt feel anything anymore,
But I know I can dance no more.

17-12-2014

132 and still to go
" Oh Father, my brother neither love nor
Want me in their midst"****





*Tennure : The wide white skirt, a Dervish wear, a symbol of Ego's shroud
** Sikke : A Camel's hair hat, represents tombstone of the ego.
***Darwish Mahmoud, a Palestinian poet, ( 13 March 1941- 9 Aug 2008) was regarded as the National Poet of Palestine.
**** lines are from Darwish Mahmoud's " I am Yousuf, Oh my Father.

Larger Than Life..

Shot from Kudroli Temple..

Hibernation

It is winter now.
A sea of flaking whites with
Few Mahonias and Jacquelines blooming bright
Just the way you'd loved them.
Of flowers, now
I'd rather you be the wreath on my bosom
Than a lonely rose on the lapel.
The last time we walked down these aisle,
You were there,
A flower snipped off;
But a solemn smile still
In the middle of roses white.
Now, on the day of this last stride
Down the same aisle
I came not since then,
Let us go with you on my tide.
I'd stare; through the drone of sermons
Hard at the stars
Till they blink and implode.
Then,we'd go
Gladly down the haven of that named burrow

From A Readers Desk..

There is only one instance of a greater joy known to those who wield the pen than getting to know, what one scribbled has been able to reach out and connect and it is when, the reader gives the feedback how it touched some chords. It is infact a humbling experience to know that someone had actually given you their most valuable asset; their time to go through and think through. Thanks a lot AshaMam for these lovely and kind words. With permission, I am posting this here.. 

Hey Arun !
Atlast got to read your collection of poems "Songs of a Solitary tree ''
Thanks to Geethachehi, I had already read some of your writings and seen some of the pictures clicked by you earlier so when she mentioned about this book I was eager to read it .She had asked me to write a review but I think to write a review you have to not just read it but reread it a number of times. Like someone said it's like peeling an onion. Everytime you read a poem you understand more of it . Every plunge takes you deeper and gives you a new perception and understanding..

'Ah Mumbai .. ' got my attention instantly . Mumbai can't be better explained like you have in your poem. A place that gives more than it takes . And if you have lived there and survived you can live in any part of the world and succeed.Reading your poem aroused the yearning in me too, to revisit Mumbai

I could relate to the mom mentioned in 'Ah, Those Roots'. I have preserved my sons' lock of hair after their first hair cut , the first tooth , the stump of the umbilical cord when it fell off and the books they first read still have a space on my bookshelves

"It's her way of saying
that we are with her always "

How did you read my thoughts, I wondered, as I read it.

'She says, our entire growing phase is there
Right in front of her, like it has happened just yesterday'

How true !
But it is the beginning of the poem that I loved
"Every homecoming is a nomad's offerings for forgiveness, A silent prayer "
I guess the children who are now out in the big world seeking their goals and too busy to look back do return home some day to seek the roots they may have neglected and then these little memories that have been put away replenish the love and affection that was lost in the past.

'Lonely reed swaying' well describes the plight of a lonely soul on a bad day in a state of confusion when it's difficult to make a choice and that's the time one seeks the support of someone 'to lift you up ''

'Yep they are in love '... It is so obvious when a couple is in love. Beautifully compared to the 'Birds in the sky chasing each other in a merry dog fight 'and to the waves that seek the shore again and again '

'Post card from a home far away' brought three generations in a frame. Neatly portrays the care and concern of a parent along with a gentle warning.

'War against killing the girl child' .. In just five lines you made me visualise the scene of an innocent beautiful unborn girl deprived of it's right to be born . A message well conveyed

'Blue linen shirt '.. I thoroughly enjoy all those Blue Imperial ads but never thought it would inspire a creative muse to bring out something so innovative. The subtle humour couldn't be missed 
The pain in 'Where were you ?', Loneliness in 'Searing solitude',
Helplessness in 'I call him Dad ', Innocence in 'Oh,those sweet monsters ... projects the feelings of the poet and brings out the right emotion in the reader.

Just picked a few to comment on . Will add to this later . The formal shorter 'review' for fb will take a while to come till then let me dunk myself in your 'Songs' a little longer.
I have passed on some of the snippets to a few others who I think would be interested to read. Waiting to hear from them .
Do keep writing . Hope to see many more of your poems published .in the future. My best wishes .
Affectionate Regards
Asha Menon

Birds said" Adieu our friend"

Birds said, "Adieu our friend"
He waved at them and said
"I will come back tomorrow"

Shot from Kovalam.
SS:1/800, f/4.5, ISO ;250, FL : 40 MM, NIKOR 18-105 

Songs Reloaded...

As children of working parents, my sister Kanni and me were kinda left to ourselves after we reach home from school. Our favorite pastime was to enact roles out of the Marvel comics and since Phantom almost always had to jump off Hero the horse, I end up sprawling across attempting those from my cycle. Many such bruises and scratches later, I found it to be not wise at all.

It was then I gave her the idea of starting a News Letter, called Home Herald. We kept it running for sometime till my hand writing was quite readable and if someone asked, at least I could comprehend what I had scribbled over. She dutifully used to cut the clippings and paste them in order so it somehow resembled a pale cousin of some magazine we had by then seen.

I was by then enjoying a cult status at school for singing one song for three annual days and as many Children,s days so to save them further trouble, in one year some few teachers made me don the role of Madhavan, a writer in a school play.

The only writer I knew of was my Valyachan, (Paternal Uncle) Dr.S.Velayudhan ( who is now a star in some stellar constellations) and the first thing I picked from him was the Pipe and his English  ( ash bush, as its known then). I remember coming out of the play to the roaring , earth splitting laughter of parents and teachers alike with only the kids looking at me in awe for the pipe and ash bush..

I don’t know, whether that play has any bearings on me but one day I told my sister in all seriousness an eight year old could muster " you know Tich, one day you will get my book, all printed in glossy paper". She was gung-ho about it. Day before yesterday while I called her to say this, she reminded me this and could feel her crying too. How time flies and with some luck and a huge motherly push and prod from a mother ( Mrs Geetha Panikker) I found from here, it actually happened too!

I guess God listens intently when innocence speaks and promises made with unadulterated purity and somehow pull in the resources to make it happen.

Songs Of A Solitary Tree : Author's Copy

Hi, Thats me with the Author's copy.
Now you can get the book through

http://www.foyles.co.uk/witem/fiction-poetry/songs-of-a-solitary-tree-graphical,sivakrishna-arun-m-9781482838534

http://www.hotbooksale.com/p12114866/Songs-of-a-Solitary-Tree-Graphical-Verses-of-Sublime-Snippets.html

http://www.amazon.com/Songs-Solitary-Tree-Graphical-Snippets-ebook/dp/B00PBVRG82/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1416202160&sr=8-1&keywords=songs+of+a+solitary+tree

http://www.flipkart.com/songs-solitary-tree-graphical-verses-sublime-snippets-english/p/itmefz6hxzzhpc4b?pid=9781482838534

Hopefully, your friendly neighborhood book store will soon be keeping stocks. 
Seeking your blessings and receipts of the order too... :) 
Love you all..:)

Songs Of A Solitary Tree...

Hi, 
Finally it has come.
Partridge, a Penguin Random House Company has published 60 of my poems or rather scribblings.
The eEditions, Kindle Edition is now available in Amazon and print editions are now available at online portals like Flipkart and all.
Hopefully, the Print Editions of the same will be available at Book stores from Nov 14th onwards.
Seeking the same amount of support and blessings and objective feedback from all of you here.
Love you all... :)
Arun

All About Being Zen..:)

Majorda Beach, Goa. Mob Click. Lenova P 780

A Star Came...

Fifty Shades Of Green...:)

From Shiradi Ghats, on the Mlore- Blore road.

The Sandman

Was listening to Enya's The Song of Sandman, and then it popped up.
Thats Akshay Jain during the Motorap at Alwas..:)

To listen to this Ethereal Prayer of a song, pls click the link below. No copyright infringement is intended here.

http://youtu.be/7zTCNLiRBXY

A butterfly fluttered by..

A flower is a love song..

Count your gardens by the flowers..:)

From namdroling Monastery.

SS: 1/250, f/7.1 , ISO : 320, FL : 62 MM, NIKOR 18-105 MM

Swinging Through A Crimsoned Sky

Thats Chits, sailing through. The initial " Oh Nos" have gone to "Hee yahoos" 

From Varca, Goa.

SS: 1/200, f/7.1, ISO : 1000, FL:105 , NIKOR 18-105 

Upended Realities

Shot from Panambur Beach , Mangalore
ss :1/250, f/5.6, ISO : 200, FL: 32 MM, NIKOR 18-105

On a Misty Morning..

Crimsoned Flowers

One Of Those Unknown Salabhanjikas Of Halebeedu

Another one, a poetry chiseled by an unknown artisan
Ruin of a salabhanjika.
Shot from Halebeedu, Near Hassan, karnataka.

SS:1/100,f/5.6, ISO:200, FL:105 MM, NIKOR 18-105 MM 

Purple-Rumped Sun Bird

It just flew in and promptly perched atop my printer as if to check whether a print out could get it cloned..:)

SS:1/320. f/5.6, FL : 105 MM, ISO : 200, NIKOR 18-105 

Bleeding Heart..:)

SS:1/200, f/4, ISO: 80, FL: 7.7 , Cam : Canon IXY 930 IS P&S.

How You Unlearn Certain Lessons.

Once upon a time.

Oops, that is an age old beginning of any bedtime story

Since it didn’t involve , ah yes, 

Any bed times then, I swear

Lets read it like

This happened sometime back.

Like a whiff of fresh air, she came by and

Our guy’s world became beautiful once again.

Birds, yeah birds

They started chirping and the

Flowers , they bloomed again and as

*Pippa, said “All was quite right with the world”.

“And they lived happily ever after?”

Bug, don’t you jump the gun, lemme complete.

One fine, oh no, 

A sad  morning revelation struck

Like a hundred ton truck,

That she cant really wait

For someone of the same age, till

He makes it big and earn those millions.

“But, what about our dreams?

Our castle in the highlands?

The summer house by the river?

The nocturnal voyages down the stream?”

She smirked “GROW UP” and walked away.

Like a fool, he stuck around there 
For some more time,

Till it rained.

*Pippa, the little, silk winder of Asolo in Robert Browning’s  verse drama “ Pippa Passes”

Budha Under The Seven Headed Naga..

From Wat Pho, Bangkok. Legend has it that, when Lord Budha, on the sixth week after enlightenment was meditating, a fierce storm brewed up and sensing this the King of serpents, known in Hindu scriptures as Lord Vasuki and in Budhist scriptures as Musilinda, came out and raised Lord on his coils and spread his hood to protect Budha from the lashing rains. It is stated that, the rains lasted seven whole days, yet unaware of this the Lord went on meditating undisturbed. 

SS;1/25, f/7.1, ISO : 100, FL : 46MM, NIKOR 18-55 MM
Wat Pho, Bangkok.

July 29th, The World Tiger Day

July 29th has been observed as the World Tiger day. This majestic species, which was once about 3lakhs odds in numbers have now dwindled to around to a meager 3200 odds and just about a 1000 of them in India, owing to mass scale poaching and habitat losses. 

"Unless, you do your bit in conserving me and my pals, tomorrow for your children, the image of Tigers would be that of the masqueraders and imposters"

A Golden Reflection

Reflection in the Bird Bath. Reflection of a Prayer Wheel Kinda erection on the cymatium of the Golden Temple.

SS: 1/200, f/5.6, ISO: 500, FL:105, NIKOR 18-105 MM.

Dhih Ji Itar Chose Can..This Is The way It Is..

  Namdroling Monastery is the hub of Tibetan monks in exile and is a centre of Palyul Lineage of Nyngma School of Tibetan Budhism. Its just about 4 kMs from Kusalnagar, the border point of Coorg and Mysore districts of Karnataka State.Every time I go to Kusalnagar, ( which is about once in a month or so)  I make it a point to visit the Monastery too.Its an abode of peace and tranquility and gives you a certain energy. You get lovely Budhist artifacts and curios at the society shops there. This is the place where 5000 odd monks and nuns practice the pure upholding of the teachings of Budha at the Ngagyur Nyngma Instititute or "Shedra". ( Any links to "Kshetra", as in 'a temple of learning'?)

By being kind of regular, have some awareness about some of the rituals and practices here. But was intrigued and clueless about one activity in particular; the Mock slapping, clapping and intense taunting the disciples indulge in group of pairs.It was a chance interaction with a monk that gave some insights into this strange ritual and the importance in their way of learning the sutras and tantras in depth.
                                      As part of the traditional curriculum, this one and a half hour ritual  starts by invoking Manjusri, the Celestial Patron of Wisdom. " Dhih Ji Itar Chos Can which means, "This Is The Way It Is". The individual debate is known as "Tsoda" and the questioner who stands is called "Niklampa" and the defender sitting down is called " Damchawa".

After the invocation, the topic would be raised by the Niklampa and seek the counter thesis by Dhamchawa. The defender has three options namely
"Do" means I Agree, "Ta Madrup" means No reason and "Khyappa Majung" means the question or poser is not blending in.He has to answer them immediately or else, the Niklampa would clap his hand three times and say " Chir Chir Chir" aka why  why why. 

As the debates go on, both parties will try to gain the upper hand by posing strategic nuances like, say in normal parlance the lawyers do. Finally, if the defender no longer able to provide a proper counter, he will be forced to say Khyappa Majung for which the questioner victoriously will say " Tsawe Dhamcha Tsar" means, "the argument is finished". Sometimes it ends with victory to the defender when the questioner suddenly may not have enough reason to further ask anything to justify his topic. 

For the laymen witnessing the high wire event, it would come across as a form of physical aggression with clappings, and mock slappings, gestures that borders at taunting and ridiculing someone. The violent hand gestures like, circling the hand above the Dhamchewa's head three times and the shrill screaming of "Di Khor Sum" - These are three circles, would instill a fear of an imminent slug fest.

But nothing happens. Both would take it in their stride and see it as kind of a mental sport that actually sharpens the mind. I heard, sometimes, before the ritual ends, they actually change positions too. At the "Shedra", students are prepared for such small exercise of reasoning called "Rikchung" as part of their assessment.

  The corner stone of any learning is the ability to seek, receive, sharpen and reinforce the bits and seeds of wisdom streaming in one's way. In the Tibetan traditions of learning , Debates are used to test the knowledge, to condition the temperament and to actively seek interpretations of the doctrines and scriptures. May be it is such conditioning that actually helps these people in exile still go on despite the setbacks and sufferings. It may be how they still cling on to the beliefs of the three jewels of Budha, Dharma and Sangha incessantly and going on spreading the lights and prayers of peace everywhere.


   "Om Mani Padme Hum"




                                                                                                                                  

For Every Tight Rope Scenarios, How You Keep The Balance Is All That Matters..:)

Shot from Mysore Zoo.
SS:1/250, f/9, FL: 170, ISO: 400 NIKOR 70-300.

Basking Loner And A Prowling Rover..:)

Shot from Sanghumugham Beach, Trivandrum.

SS:1/250, f/8, ISO : 100, FL: 50 MM, NIKOR 18-105 MM

Reality In Ripples..

Shot from Coral Island, Pattaya.

SS: 1/160, f/18, ISO  :100, FL: 70 MM,  NIKOR 70-300

Soliloquy of a slut

They Come.
Of all kind,
Dark, fair, young and old
Bald, wrinkled, limp and lame
Some with nickels in pockets
To pay for what they get free at home
And some, at times with knives and rods to
Steal off a sinner's sweat and blood
While she lay mostly in morbid belch.

I used to dance when some demand and
Some made me sing too,
Even lullabies, often.

Honey, love, baby 
Slut , whore , bitch
Oh, thats them, names they call

They pet, fondle, caress and kiss
Kick, drag, bang,slit, slash and throw.
I die, countless deaths each day 
Yet come breathing again,
Ready for the next clutch of bills,
Thrust down the slit in the blouse.

Of all,
I still long for the Blind one.
The way he touched and felt,
Running his hand all over,
Searching, feeling, exploring
Kindling in me, the cinders of desire
Even I have long forgotten

His hands, played music on my beaten up body
Touching up chords of forgotten melodies.
And I gave in to him completely.
Like the healers of ancient times,
He touched my soul to come alive and sing again.

When it is all over, but 
I still wanted to go on,
Feeling my crooked and battered nose, he said
" Oh God, you are so beautiful"
I smiled and then cried.

Faith, Standing Tall...

The last time, we'd been, this structure was almost submerged, with just the edifice of the belfry, above the waterline, evoking thoughts of someone, struggling to stand on toes to keep the neck above from drowning. 

Rosary Church, popularly known as Shettihalli Church ( after the village), is about 17 kms from Haassan district in the state of karnataka. 

Built in 1860 by French Missionaries, for the colonial estate owners of Sakleshpur, this Gothic structure is an absolute beauty. Believed to be made of the mixture of limestones, jaggery and egg whites and laterite stones, this must have been a buzzing place during the colonial time.

It is heard, this place was the hub of the village where mostly farm hands of the colonial masters had their dwellings. 

In 1960, to provide water to hassan, Mysore and mandya, a dam was built across River Hemavathy and the entire population of this hamlet got rehabilitated to other parts of the district. since then, for most part of the year, this structure is submerged in water, yet stand tall when water recedes and dries up during the summers. When she had seen the photo of this marvelous abode of peace, my friend, lets call her SRD-J, had this to say.

" Sometimes, it takes being drowned to realize the value of air.
If I never knew hardship, how would I remember the good times?
Like the rain, masquerading as a dark and ominous cloud, so, pain teases and tests me.
I have faith..I will have faith..
Though submerged, holding my breath
Hiding in plain sight,waiting for sun to vaporize my shackles..                  My anchor holds                              I will breath again.."

Though fifty years of amphibian existence had taken its toll, it is still a testimony to the good old engineering expertise.

The roof had gone entirely, so too the windows and stained glass windows. Yet, amidst all these ruins, this structure still  stands tall. 
Fishing is kind of a summer getaway as well a revenue source for the enterprising locals here.

 Though, it has started raining in the coastal belt, it wasnt so at Hassan. Sun was playing, hide and seek, throwing up hues of different rays. Against the light, this lonely, ruin of an abode of God, emanates rays of peace and tranquility. 

Wherever,
Be it amidst the greens,
Or under water,
Amongst the faithfuls,
Or devoid of flocks,
In prime or peril,
Be assured, that
I will remain.
A spirit refused to bend
Where, time stand still and 
I will stand tall..

As an after thought and as for a visual comparison, adding this photo taken on 4th Oct, 2013 when River Hemavathy was almost at its best.

What I Found Through These Beads Of Pearls..:)

From Great Escape at Sakleshpur.

SS:1/250 ,f/4.8, ISO:200, FL : 42, NIKOR 18-105 MM

And, As They Say, Rest Is History..

All of them
Were hiking really well
Justifying, Darwin's Theory of Evolution.

I was just huffing and puffing 
Stopping in the middle, at times on all fours too
Ignoring the rib tickling laughs 
Aimed at my way up.

It wasnt easy, coming after a ligament rapture and 
The protective cap was making it 
All the more difficult.

I leaned against a  big root
Winding all the way down in to the depths
Searching for secrets of its own existence.

"Water". it was more a suggestion 
Than a question.
I could muster a sheepish smile only 
Between the gasps for air.

She sat down, on a rock thats jetting out to me, 
Much to the collective chagrin and 
Stares and glares at my side

"Its ok, you are new to this line of 
Stretching the limits, lets make sure
You get into rhythm soon" 
And Smiled.

Sun was shining through her hair
Sparkling up the sailing strands.
Gosh, it was then, that I realized
We would go a long way TOGETHER..

A faceless Shepherd, his mother and their herd..

Shot on the way back from Shimoga, on a rainy day.

SS:1/125, f/5.6, ISO : 100, FL : 21.5 MM

Between The Horse and Deep Blue Sea

From Thanneerbavi Beach, Mangalore. 

Treatise By An Abandoned One

Short memory is a very fine cover.
From the severe heat of 
Black dark realities,
It is a swaying, rope bridge 
Into the illusions of romantic elements.

What is the colour of silence 
Is a probe that made the 
Abandoned one tongue-tied.
The same tint of your skin
My heart still keeps, is the 
Recalled yet, unuttered riposte.

Moonshine of memories,
Dreamy shadows, and 
Remembrance, perhaps just be
The distance between the lapses.

A long way to go still and
Its that time, the darkness looms over.
Yet another call from behind, like the
Muffled twitter of a wet shadow of a pigeon
Came shivering, crawling and 
Trailed off farther away...

And, Then She Pecked Me Hard...

Jungle Barblers. Spotted from Calicut Home.

SS:1/400,f/5.6, ISO : 200, FL ; 300 MM NIKOR 70-300 

Random Thoughts..

1. Futile Pursuits

(First thought when a friend said, that she is gonna live in with her boy friend) 

Ants marching in 
A vain search of 
A lost dreg of
A molten cube in
An empty cup of 
A dreadful coffee.


2. What The Mirror Conveyed

With a scope tilted inward
There is nothing elegant I could see,
But for the rotten innards of
A decaying soul and 
Burned out embers of those
Long dead virtues.

The Hand That Feeds Is The Hand That......

From Jurong Bird Park .
SS:1/60 f/5.6, ISO: 400 FL 46 NIKOR 18- 55 MM

Dichotomy Of Being Together..:)

SS: 1/320, f/5.6, ISO: 200, FL : 105 MM, NIKOR 18-105 MM

Each of 'em mothers, worry a lot about their progenies..

A mobile shot of Aamy, with her doll..:)

When heavens poured..

Shot on a stormy day on the drive back from Coorg. 

SS: 1/100, f/4.5, ISO : 400, FL : 170, NIKOR 70-300 MM

Its the lonely bird who sings the sweetest of melodies..:)

Its my kids Aadi and Aamy who had shown this to me while at In - Laws Place.

SS: 1/1600, f/5.6, ISO : 400 , fl : 300 MM, nikor 70- 300 MM.